Eyes Like Yours
by Alicia Jo Twain
Summary: Christian leaves, thinking Satine is dead. She is very sick, but also pregnant. What happens to the baby?
1. Letters To My Unborn Child: My Past

Disclaimer: All the Moulin Rouge characters and the Moulin Rouge storyline belong to the one and only and immensely wonderful we-all-know-who - Baz Luhrmann, as well as to Craig Pierce. To me belongs the unborn child, which in does not have a name, yet. It will in chapter three, so be patient :o)  
  
Timeline: After "Spectacular Spectacular", with the ending somewhat altered, for a bit at least.  
  
  
  
A/N: once I found the WONDERFUL world of Moulin Rouge fanfics I didn't really plan to write one, coz I didn't wanna write a fanfic for the sake of writing one and then I got this idea and thought I would pursue it. That's one of the reasons that I don't' have other Moulin Rouge fanfics, but who knows, I might get another good idea.  
  
The title of the fanfic is the title of a Shakira song as well which I ADORE (there's an English as well as a Spanish version for which she got a Latin Grammy!!!) and the title of PART 1 is of a 2Pac song. It just totally fit.  
  
One more thing, I would really appreciate any feedback, if you don't' like it, feel free to express your opinion, just don't flame too much, please. I would also appreciate any constructive criticism as well as positive feedback. Thx :o)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
EYES LIKE YOURS  
  
  
  
~ by Alicia Jo Twain ~  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
PART 1 - LETTERS TO MY UNBORN CHILD  
  
  
  
Chapter 1: MY PAST  
  
  
  
  
  
March 23rd, 1900  
  
  
  
My dear child.  
  
I'm not quite sure where to start. I never thought I'd be writing letters to my unborn child, I never planned it, but that was before. before. before I found out I was dying. Yes, that's right, I'm dying. I don't even know how long I have left. Not that I would care since my life is not worth all that much, no one would miss me, really. Well maybe not no one. But it's no secret I haven't really done anything great with my life. The best thing I'd have to look back on, when I die, is having you. That is, if I make it, if both of us make it. [the handwriting somewhat smeared by tears] .to the end.  
  
You're probably more confused than I am, at this point, so why don't I start from the beginning. I am your mother. This sounds so strange; it's been ages, literally, since I've thought about, since I've let myself imagine being a mother. Not that I stopped wanting to have a child, it just wasn't the right time. I wasn't living in any appropriate conditions, not even close, to raise a child in. And then your daddy came along, and here you are, stuck with poor old me, at least until I come to term.  
  
I don't know where or who you'll be with when you read this, so for the record - it's another rainy day here in Paris, today, where I live. Now and always. I've been in Paris my whole life, was born, raised, lived and will certainly die here, in the city of light, as the many tourists who come here call it. I'm in the elephant - my working and private chambers - looking out the window at all the people scurrying along the wet, muddy streets of Montmartre, the center of the Bohemian revolution, which means the center of all nightlife in Paris, for the moment, anyway. I look at the street-people with their bare shaking hands, palms open, hoping to get a sou or two from the rich folks, to buy a crust of bread, or perhaps even a sugary croissant most of them have never tasted in their lifetime. I feel sorry them, all of them, every person in this world who has to live on the street. It's about the worst thing that could happen to a person. Not knowing where one belongs; roaming the streets in search of shelter, if only for the day; praying to God the rain would stop; clinging on to your wet clothes in fear of catching pneumonia or something even worse. And I should know, for that's how I spent the first 13 years of my life, surviving day by day, with no clue as to what horrors tomorrow might bring. You wouldn't think that, if you saw me now. Now, I am the Sparkling Diamond of the Moulin Rouge, with beautiful dresses, living in a carefully catered elephant with satin curtains and silk sheets, whose every whim is indulged, or so it seems. That's what the outer world thinks of me, but the underworld knows better, because we're all in the same position. Not very different from where we came from - the street - with a roof over our heads and enough food to keep us alive, the rest is unchanged, we are still just as lost, if not more so, not belonging anywhere, clueless to what hardships the next day will bring. If business goes down, we all go down. We could all be back on the street in a day, not a nice way to live, y'know. That's why we are more careful.  
  
I pray to God you'll never have to go though that. I want a good life for you, a better one than I've had. I want you to know that I'd do anything to keep you from that kind of fate, but it's not up to me. not anymore. [more tears smearing the ink]  
  
I'm not exactly sure when I was born, I suspect it was sometime in 1877, but I do know that I was born in a dark alley on the night of the full moon. This is what she told me. She was walking alone to the place where she and a couple of other women spent rainy nights. It was an infamous neighborhood where all the streetlamps had been destroyed by the homeless kids, but the only place they had found shelter in. It had begun to rain heavily, and my mom, which means your grandma, tried to hurry up, but she was already over 8 months pregnant with me, and her feet trembled more and more and she had to stop to rest and catch her breath. She felt really strong contractions and she couldn't walk anymore, so she lowered herself to the ground and screamed the hell out of herself. She was scared and cold and alone, and then one of her street-mates showed up and helped her through the delivery. So she had me, in some dark alley, who knows where. It was so dark she couldn't even see my face. And then for a couple of seconds the moon shone so brightly that my face, she said, was illuminated and she said that mine was the most beautiful face she had ever seen but, y'know, all mothers say that. It's a story my mom told me over and over and over again. When I asked her why she kept repeating it over and over she said that she didn't know how long she was going to be around, but that I always had to remember that the moonlight shining on me was a sign from God that I was unique, and that I would do something special with my life. She told me to remember that, always. And so I have. My mother died of pneumonia, trying to keep me warm, when I was 4, and on her deathbed, which was a muddy Paris street, she made me promise I would do something with my life. Something better than she had - were her exact words. There is not a day that passes by that I don't look at the moon and remember my mother's words. As a child I used to believe that I truly would fulfill my promise, but as the years passed, I became less and less certain of it. After my mother died I became one of the many orphans who pick pocketed for their survival in the expensive city of fashionable Paris. Of my father I never knew anything and I didn't really care, I had my mother. She never talked about him and I never asked.  
  
In spite of the fact that the streets were my home, that it was the only life I'd ever had and known, I longed to be one of those rich ladies, riding in big carriages, going to fancy balls, dancing with handsome respected gentlemen, even turning several of their marriage proposals down. What I wouldn't have given for only one of those gentlemen to ask me for one dance, let alone a marriage proposal. One day, as I was walking down the busy square, admiring a brand-new bride being helped into her carriage, wanting to be in her shoes more than anything, wanting to be any bride for that matter, I felt someone's gaze on me. I turned to face the person - it was a plump, mid-aged man, and his eyes were looking straight into mine, as if he was trying to figure out who I was. Then a stupid grin surfaced on his face. He started walking slowly, but steadily, towards me with that smile remaining firmly on his lips. As he got closer I started backing away and then suddenly I tripped over something and fell straight, arse first, into one of the muddy puddles the Paris streets are so full of. I felt the dirty liquid penetrate through my dress first, and then even through my undergarments. I felt so helpless and filthy, but most of all - wet. Before I had time to get up the bride's carriage sped by me, another muddy puddle, splashing the liquidy mud all over my clothes, face and hair. As I looked after the expensive carriage all I wanted to do was burst in tears. Just as they were forming in my eyes I noticed that the plump man was staring at me in amusement and I concluded he'd probably seen the whole thing. He had the weirdest expression on his face, something between surprise, pity and delight. I resented the pity in his eyes, and I wouldn't let myself be laughed at, by him, whoever he was, or by anyone. I blinked away my tears and instead I burst out laughing. His expression completely changed to utter shock and amazement, I was so happy I'd wiped that smug expression of his face that I laughed even harder. I must've looked like a madman, sitting in the mud, all covered in mud, leaning on my arms behind my back for support and laughing uncontrollably. People on the square stopped to stare at me, but I didn't give a damn, actually it amused me all the more. The only way to survive growing up on the streets, especially the ones of Paris, was by keeping your sense of humor. To always find something funny in your own misfortune. That's basically the only golden street-rule I've managed to stick to, the first being "Do anything to avoid from being caught." But everyone's broken that one, even the best of us, not purposely of course. My sense of humor is the only thing that's kept me going - the past few years. Well, my whole life, actually. Anyway, back to me sitting in the muddy puddle. I just sat there for a minute or two still laughing while the man kept staring at me, I must've been a very strange sight, indeed. After a bit my jaw started to hurt from all the laughing and I regained my composure. I tried to get up, clumsily, may I add, so the man, coming out of his staring daze, gave me a hand, and there we stood. Me, all muddy and wet, and him, looking all spic n' span. If he hadn't been that fat and old it would've been just like Cinderella, where the poor girl, falls for the rich and handsome guy. But that man, who later introduced himself as Harry Zidler, was nothing like my knight in shining armor, as I was soon to find out. For my own peace of mind it would've been better had I never met him. But it was destiny, just like I was meant to meet your daddy and like I was meant to have you. You are my only bright light at the end of this dark and winding tunnel. You are the reason I am still alive, even tho I can barely do anything. The doctor said I mustn't move around at all if I wasn't to risk losing you. That is never going to happen. I won't let it! I would have you if I had to not sleep for the rest of my life! So I will have you if I spend the rest of my life in bed!! [red spots of blood on the paper] So anyway, I was watching the other carriages speed away after the church wedding, when Harry said, "You want to have beautiful dresses like they do and have all the men fall at your feet?" I was very surprised by his question, but I silently nodded. It was what I had wanted all along.  
  
"Well then, I know just the place for you!" he said, as he took my hand and pulled me with him. And I let him. Just like that! Little did I know he was taking me to the Moulin Rouge, the place where people were transformed into creatures of the underworld with no hope of ever returning to their previous existence. No person who has entered the dark corridors of the infamous nightclub has ever come out. Not in one piece, anyway. The diamonds, the glamour and the male adoration, which many mistook for love that they had so lacked in their previous lives, seduced girls, like me, into the Hades of Paris. For the first time we had expensive clothes and were adored by the whole male population of Paris, and we loved every second of it!!! But all that did not come without a price, the highest price a human being could ever pay: the loss of one's soul. That's what the Moulin Rouge took in return for shelter, food and all the superficial material things human beings are programmed to want - some more than others - they were the real diamonds that would bring in money for Harry Zidler, and I was one of them.  
  
So Harry dragged me through the muddy streets of Paris, turned around this corner and that corner until we got to Montmartre. From beyond the houses I could see the red wings of the windmill turning slowly and in a few minutes we were in front of the MOULIN ROUGE!!! I was so excited I couldn't breathe! It was the most magnificent nightclub I'd ever seen, and windmill for that matter. I caught myself wondering if it was as pretty on the inside as it was on the outside. Harry took me inside and it was beautiful: velvet curtains covering the stage (it wasn't open yet since it was still morning), pretty wallpaper, and a whole balcony for the musicians, who were rehearsing, as well as the dancers. The can-can music was deafening and my eyes almost hurt from the variety of colors that spun around me, of the corsets, skirts, dresses, gowns, make-up, wigs, hats and all the other accessories I had only dreamed about till then. I was fascinated! I looked around, devouring everything with my eyes. It wasn't like anything I'd ever seen before. Then I looked at Harry, he had an almost evil smile on his face as if he knew something I didn't. Unfortunately for me, he did know. I didn't give it much thought, as I was so thrilled to be there, already picturing myself singing on the trapeze, high above, and doing a solo can-can. I'd have money and pretty dresses and wouldn't have to ever starve myself again! I'd be able to eat all the chocolate I wanted!!! It all happened exactly as I'd pictured it, but with a little exception.  
  
Harry introduced me to the girls as the Sparkling Diamond who'd boost up business. They all gave me these unfriendly stares, checking me out from head to toe. Back then, being naïve, I thought I'd be friends with them, but now, as I rethink the whole situation, they'd already known I'd steal the spotlight away from them. Less spotlight meant less money and it's not like there was an abundance of that at the Moulin Rouge. That's why they all hated me so much. I was Harry's pet, and they knew it the second I walked into the nightclub. All I'd wanted was food on the table, dry clothes and a roof over my head. But Harry didn't quite see it that way.  
  
After my first day, being shown around and getting installed in the elephant, day after day I went to rehearsal after rehearsal, singing, dancing, jumping and swinging, all in my little tight corset which made it enormously hard to breathe. The first few times I felt like I was going to faint most of the time, but I got through it. The dresses and gowns all made up for it. All so colorful with petticoat after petticoat made according to the latest Parisian high-class fashion. I loved every one of them and spent my every free moment trying them on and admiring myself in the mirror. I looked pretty, real pretty, and I knew it! I was able to make every man go mad with desire for me, but that thought had never crossed my mind back then. When I wore all those beautiful dresses, night after night, especially my favorite one, very similar to the one the bride was wearing the day I first met Harry, except it was scarlet red, I flew into a whole other world where I wasn't a dancer in the Moulin Rouge, but an actress, a real actress, like the great Sara Burnhart. I got called on by the most prestigious families in Paris and even the British came to see me. Every single man courted me and there were so many I could never decide upon which. That was my dream: to have a choice. The choice of choosing the man who'd take me home after a party. Choosing him because he was nice to me, because he treated me well, like a girl should be treated. Not just go with the highest bidder. But then Harry would yell, "Satine!! You're on!!" and those three words would shatter all of my dreams, night after night. Every time he yelled those same exact words, it was as if he were chiseling off a part of my dream. Chiseling it to mold it into his dream for me - to be the most famous courtesan in the whole of France and even have European royalty come see me at the Moulin Rouge, which would bring in more money. Although Harry silver-coated it for me, convincing me I'd meet more important people that way (or better to say I'd sleep with them), I knew very well that no real producer and no real director would cast a nationally known courtesan in a serious play. I might've been naïve when Harry took me off the streets but by then I knew about everything that was going on in the underworld. He couldn't fool me, not anymore. Harry knew but he still pretended he could and I pretended it worked. It was a little game we played. I think it comforted him to think, to convince himself, that I wasn't all that unhappy, that he hadn't irreversibly screwed up my life by turning me into a courtesan, a boy toy, the object of lust and desire of the whole of Paris. He was like a father to me. He wasn't a good father, but nevertheless being the only father figure in my life, I started seeing him as such. He WAS selling me to the highest bidder but even a child beaten by its own father feels loyal to him, not knowing better, or not having anything else to cling to. Looking back, if I hadn't met Harry, some pimp would've offered me the same thing and I would have accepted, so I can't really blame him for my life now. I wasn't that better off on the street all by myself, anyway. I'd probably have caught my death from the cold.  
  
Knowing what I know now it would've been wiser not to go with Harry but then I wouldn't have met your father or have had you. I want you to know that you mean the world to me, and meeting your daddy, Christian. well. that was the best thing that ever happened to me.  
  
  
  
[handwriting smeared. drops of blood on paper]  
  
  
  
Your mommy who will always love you  
  
  
  
[dried tears on the bottom of the paper, along with little bloodstains] 


	2. Letters To My Unborn Child: The Present

Disclaimer: All the Moulin Rouge characters belong to Baz Luhrmann and Craig Pierce. Including the song fragments used in this chapter.  
  
A/N: I want to thank everyone who's reviewed and apologize for not putting chapter 2 up sooner. It's because by the time I went to check if anyone had read and reviewed my fanfic, I'd totally convinced myself that it sucked and that no one was gonna read it, since it wasn't Satine/Christian, so I didn't work on chapter 2 AT ALL. So when I saw the reviews I was over the moon. I mean it, I would've been over the moon even if I'd seen only one positive review - so thx you guys and hope you like this chapter. It's got more lovey-dovey stuff and it's more romantic. And it's longer, for obvious reasons. Tell me what you think, coz you guys said I should continue the story, you think I did OK?! As for Christian, be patient, his future will also come up in chapters to come. And NOT with another woman. I wouldn't do that to Satine, or Christian for that matter, because Satine is PERFECT! Here it goes.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
EYES LIKE YOURS  
  
  
  
~ by Alicia Jo Twain ~  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
PART 1 - LETTERS TO MY UNBORN CHILD  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 2: THE PRESENT  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
June 3rd, 1900  
  
  
  
My shining light.  
  
It's been six months since the opening night of "Spectacular Spectacular". It's been six months since the final night of "Spectacular Spectacular". It's been six months since I've last seen Christian. It's been six months since he thought I'd died. It's been six months since I've been missing him. It's been six months since I thought I couldn't live without him. It's been six months since I found out you'd been growing inside of me. It's been six months since you've been giving me the strength to survive each day without him. It's been six months since I found out I was dying.  
  
I think it's time I told you about your daddy. I don't want you to think that you were unwanted or that you were the result of some filthy affair for money. You are so much more. [more tears smearing the handwriting] You are the fruit of such a pure and beautiful love that I thought only existed in fairytales. But some fairytales do come true, if only for a little while. That's what Christian was to me - my very own fairytale. and you. you are my miracle.  
  
How I met your daddy. The whole thing was quite funny, actually. I first spotted him at the Moulin Rouge, mistaking him for the Duke [handwriting getting rigid at the thought of that horrible man] who was keen to invest in the Moulin Rouge and its first play, that is, after a night with me. So when your daddy came to the elephant the very same night, I did all I could to seduce him, but he got all confused and it didn't seem like he'd go for the smoldering temptress that Harry had told me was his type. I pinned him to the bed and at once he pushed me back causing me to fall on the floor. He just turned around and looked at his feet. I was even more confused, but we needed an investor so once he started reciting some poetry, which was really odd as no man had EVER recited anything to me, let alone poetry, I thought it would turn him on and I started wailing and hitting the floor yelling, "Yes! Yes! This is what I want! Naughty words! More!" Thinking back, it all sounds quite pathetic, I must've scared the hell out of him. He was there, indeed, for a poetry reading. He had only been in town for one day and the Bohemians had already discovered his great talent - he became the voice of the children of the revolution. He believed in all the bohemian ideals - truth, beauty, freedom and above all things - love, most of which I knew nothing about. Well, maybe only the beauty part.  
  
I kept distracting Christian with my wild yells, of which I am quite embarrassed now, but then all of a sudden he started singing. It was the most beautiful song I'd ever heard. I'll remember the words to it as long as I live - "I don't have much money, but, boy, if I did I'd buy a big house where we both could live..." - that's how it went. I thought he was just reciting some song he knew, because I thought he WAS the Duke and he COULD buy us a big house, y'know. But something in the way he sang it all seemed so real and sincere. My favorite part goes like this, "So excuse me forgetting but these things I do, you see I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue, anyway the thing is, what I really mean. Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen." Well, the eye color part doesn't make much sense since he was looking into my eyes when he sang that, he must've thought of it while I was yelling and screaming. But the way he said it - he could've said I was as ugly as a frog and it would've still sounded wonderful. That is your daddy's greatest talent, he could make anything sound so wonderful that you'd wonder yourself what was so bad about it. He ended the song with, "I hope you don't mind that I put down in words, how wonderful life is now you're in the world!" Me? Mind? No sane woman would have minded being told something like that by a man. But he said that because he was so insecure, I'd yelled too much, I really was playing the role of a smoldering temptress, up until the eye color part - that just knocked me off my feet. The ending verse hit me deep into my heart. No one had ever told me that, except for my mom, and as I thought of her, and my promise, I regained my composure and determined to have the Duke invest in the play, I said, "Oh...I can't believe it. I'm in love. I'm in love with a young, handsome talented Duke." I didn't really mean it, of course, I had said it many a times, but this time it just came out, quite naturally. I reproached myself in my head that I couldn't fall in love, not even with a Duke. But then Christian said he wasn't the Duke and that sent another unstoppable set of dominos flying down, just waiting to crash. If he had been the Duke the next few months would've been so much easier, but nothing in life is easy, least of all something you care about. Any other man would've kept his mouth shut and would've just used me until he was found out, but not your daddy. That's why I love him so much. He is the best person I've ever met and will meet, despite the fact that I'm dying. The Duke showed up and Christian hid from place to place in the elephant, but it wasn't really catered to hide men, so I had to concentrate on keeping the Duke's back turned to Christian and he just walked behind his back. I didn't think about Christian then, all I could think about was him not getting caught or the real Duke would not invest. To draw his attention I started reciting "Your Song" - the very song Christian had just sang to me, he later told me I'd inspired him - then and there - that is enough proof of his talent and his love for me. Christian mouthed me through the recital, towards the end of which I was looking more at him than the Duke. At that very moment there was a small voice, deep inside, telling me that this was THE man I'd been waiting my whole life for. That he would enable me to fly, to fly far far away. with him. But being practical I just ignored the voice inside, only until later that night.  
  
I still had to get rid of Christian so the Duke wouldn't see him, so I got the Duke on the bed with me, prepared to do anything just to get Christian out of there, including sleeping with him. But your daddy wouldn't leave! He just stood there, looking at me, the Duke on top of me, pleading me with the most innocent aqua green eyes I'd ever seen, not to sleep with the Duke. I could see the despair in his eyes, but also determination that he wouldn't leave unless the Duke did so first. So I told the Duke that we would wait until opening night and practically shoved him out of the elephant. At once, Christian's expression changed to a very satisfied grin. I was so furious with him and reproached him for what he could have caused. But I was so tired and felt faint, and the next thing I remember is lying on the bed with Christian shaking me, and the Duke staring at us as if I'd betrayed him. Christian was speechless and it was up to me fix things. I introduced Christian as the writer of the play "Spectacular Spectacular" that he was about to invest in. I lied that he'd filled me with such inspiration that I'd called an emergency rehearsal. The Duke was quite skeptic, but out of nowhere the Bohemians appeared, I later found out they were kind of spying on us, and so did Harry, and as the minutes went by the Duke was more and more convinced that we were telling the truth. He asked what the story was. None of us had any idea, basically because the show did not exist, but since the Duke was to invest, we needed a story, any story. We left it all to Christian and at that very moment he thought up the whole story. He said it was about love, about a love overcoming all obstacles. The plot went like this: There was a Hindu courtesan, the most beautiful courtesan in all the world, but her kingdom was invaded by an evil Maharaja. Now, in order to save her kingdom, she had to seduce the evil Maharaja. But on the night of the seduction, she mistook a penniless sitar player for the evil Maharaja and she fell in love with him. As Christian was saying all this I kind of figured out that this plot wasn't all that original - it was what had just happened before this "emergency rehearsal". I was the Hindu courtesan who had to seduce the evil Maharajah so he would invest, but I mistake the penniless sitar player for the Maharajah. Christian continued that the sitar player wasn't trying to trick the courtesan, then he gave me the most adorable I'm-sorry look that I just started thinking that maybe he wasn't all that bad. He hadn't meant to trick me, like all the other men had.  
  
We continued to deceive the Duke about the play: The sitar player and the courtesan had to hide their love. As more obstacles came along they're pulled apart by an evil plan. I had been watching and thinking about Christian most of the time and I thought of his song for me, I thought it fit perfectly in the story. The two lovers were brought together after she heard his song and they realized their love is just too strong. Christian and I locked gazes and I was left speechless again - he had a way of doing that, surprising you all the time. Convincing him the play would be a great success, Zidler even promising returns were fixed at 10%, the Duke agreed to invest.  
  
As I was left alone in the elephant, I thought about Christian and all he'd said. He represented the life I'd had before I came to the Moulin Rouge. He was poor, but he still had dreams. Dreams and faith in love, that it conquered all. That life could be a fairytale if you wanted it to. He was a penniless poet but that didn't seem to bother him in the least, all he wanted to do was write, write about truth, beauty, freedom and above all - love. As I thought about that I remembered my mother and all of a sudden felt this strong feeling of nostalgia. It made me want to scream, cry and die all at once. Somehow Christian had brought all my memories into the present, all the dreams I once used to believe in. To scare away all these sad feelings I started singing my favorite song, which always cheered me up.  
  
  
  
When will I begin to live again?  
  
One day I'll fly away!  
  
Leave all this to yesterday...  
  
What more could your love do for me?  
  
When will love be through with me?  
  
Why live life from dream to dream and dread the day when dreaming ends?  
  
  
  
I'd stopped believing in the lyrics of it long ago, it's not like I would ever fly away, but it still comforted me to dream about another kind of life. I had been living my life from dream to dream - whenever I was on the trapeze I'd imagine I was an actress playing a part with the audience clapping and cheering for me, as an actress, not as a courtesan. When I had to be with all those horrible men, my consciousness would fly away into another world and the men would spend the night with a talking corpse, not with me. But as one dream ended and another began I dreaded the thought that some day all the dreams would be gone, I would have used them all up, and what would I do then?! But that didn't happen, thanks to your daddy.  
  
I went up on the elephant to sing my song. I needed to get all the rage and sorrow out, so I could continue. I had a real role now. I would be an actress! When I'd sung all I had in me, I was surprised to find Christian standing behind me. He thanked me for helping him get the job and then he asked me if I'd really meant what I'd said, about falling in love with him. My heart started beating faster, but I just coldly said that it was all an act. He lowered his head and I felt so sorry for him, so I added that I couldn't fall in love with anyone, which was true. He looked at me, his eyes wide open, shocked at the thought that I couldn't fall in love at all. He acted as if I'd just told him that I was a vampire. To him not being able to love WAS like being a vampire. He didn't believe a human being could live without love. And he was right. Christian then started convincing me that we I needed love, that it was like oxygen. I'd believed all that a long time ago, but not anymore, I couldn't afford to. I kept bringing him down from the clouds by saying that love doesn't feed you, or clothe you or provide shelter. But every time, he'd just climb higher and higher into his dreams. His faith in love was incredible. No matter what I said he always had something back to say. I firmly believe he'd say that if there was love, a romance between a cat and a mouse could totally work out.  
  
Christian jumped onto the top of the elephant singing, "Love lifts us up where we belong!" My heart raced even faster, I yelled at him to get down, but love certainly did lift him up, because he could've simply fallen down to the ground and broken his neck. But he was above all that. His belief in love was as strong as the angels' belief in God, and he hadn't even fully experienced it yet. I continued to answer back pessimistically to all his optimistic verses, when all my insides were screaming at me to tell him that I'd fallen in love with him! I'd finally admitted it to myself, it's not like I had any other choice. But my head was screaming back at my heart to shut up, that I was a courtesan, that I couldn't fall in love. While this war raged inside of me, Christian continued his love talk and when he sang, "We can be heroes! Just for one day..." I knew it was over. I knew I couldn't keep my feelings to myself, and besides I wanted us to be heroes. I'd been a coward most of my life, if love could turn me into a hero, it wasn't as bad as I'd been told it was by the creatures from the underworld. And there was Christian. I wouldn't give him up! I couldn't.  
  
I teased him a couple of verses longer, pretending not to believe his love song. But he knew. He later told me he saw a twinkle in my eye, and he knew he'd won me over. But it wasn't really him who'd won me over, it was LOVE! His love! All of a sudden our surroundings changed and we were flying. Flying to different worlds, where the Moulin Rouge meant nothing, where I wasn't a courtesan and he wasn't a penniless poet, where we were just two people in love. Nothing more, nothing less. I was finally free. Free to fly. It's like nothing else mattered, we were alone in the world. Alone and free to do as we may, to love one another, without the rest of the world getting in our way. It was the most exhilarating feeling I'd ever felt.  
  
From then on everything else seemed easy in comparison to my previous life at the Moulin Rouge. Christian and I spent every free moment together. In the mornings we would all rehearse, although everyone was watching and we had to hide our love, just the knowledge that he was near was enough to go through one rehearsal and the next. But as he was the writer and I was the lead actress it wasn't strange that we would spend the afternoons up in the elephant "rehearsing". The nights we spent mostly in his garret loving each other. We cherished every minute we had, because the sun seemed to sneak up on us much too soon. I would doze off at dawn but Christian would stay up to work on the script. I honestly don't know when he slept. When I told him to work on the script later and to get some sleep or he wouldn't get through the day he said that he loved watching me sleep. That I looked so innocent and peaceful and that I was his Muse and just by watching me he knew what to write. That when I was near he didn't need anything else, not even sleep. That was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to me. I was still a little worried so I told him how I longed to wake up every morning with him next to me, so he said that he'd work on the script for an hour and then get some sleep next to me. From the day I'd said that there was not a morning I did not wake up in his arms. That was the best beginning of the day I could ever have hoped for. But I do have a feeling that sometimes he'd see me stir a little before we were due in for rehearsal, and snuggle next to me pretending he'd been sleeping. I suspected that because some days he would have endless pages of written script while other days a normal amount of them. I didn't say anything of course, but day after day that made me love him even more. If that was at all possible. If that's what he really did, he didn't show it. He was always ready for rehearsals, he'd sometimes even call extra rehearsals if he wasn't happy with a scene. There was nothing to indicate he wasn't getting enough sleep, barely any sleep actually. Can you believe I have never, since I've met him, seen him yawn. I guess it's like he told me, he lived on love, he didn't need anything else. But I think there's something more, he is the incarnation of love itself.  
  
That's how days and months went by, our play getting better by the minute, I was successfully avoiding the Duke and finally. I was finally truly happy. It wasn't just happiness, it was bliss. Whenever I'd start to worry "what if this goes wrong, what if that happens" Christian would just kiss away all my worries, I would wrap myself in his warmth and life would be wonderful again. Life truly was wonderful with Christian in the world.  
  
Soon enough Harry found out about us and when I got really sick one evening, Christian got jealous. I told him that we had to end it, that I would have to sleep with the Duke on opening night and that the jealousy would drive him mad. Do you know what he did then? He wrote a song for us and put it in the play. He made everything go away with a song. Our song, and he said, "no matter how bad things get, or whatever happens, whenever you hear it or when you sing it or whistle it or hum it, it will then you'll know it, it will mean--it'll mean we love one another."  
  
  
  
Never knew I could feel like this Like I've never seen the sky before I want to vanish inside your kiss Every day I love you more and more Listen to my heart Can you hear it sing Telling me to give you everything Seasons may change Winter to spring But I love you until The end of time  
  
[tears smearing the handwriting]  
  
Come what may Come what may I will love you until my dying day Suddenly the world seems Such a perfect place Suddenly it moves with Such a perfect grace Suddenly my life Doesn't seem such a waste But our world revolves around you And there's no mountain too high No river too wide Sing out this song I'll be there by your side Storm clouds may gather And stars may collide But I love you until The end of time  
  
  
  
We, of course, didn't end it, and the lovers' "secret song" made its way into the play. As we rehearsed it one day, the Duke got upset, not liking the ending and when he asked why the courtesan shouldn't choose the Maharajah who would provide a lifetime of security, Christian slipped and yelled, "Because she doesn't love YOU!!!" He quickly rectified, but it was too late, the cat was out of the bag. It wasn't really Christian's fault. Nini, another courtesan, had helped the Duke figure it out, but the way Christian defended me. No man had ever defended me, let alone in public. The Duke demanded the ending of the play to be altered with the courtesan choosing the Maharajah and without the lovers' secret song. But I couldn't let that happen. Not after we'd worked so hard on it and it was OUR play and OUR story. I didn't want some stupid duke to take it all away from us. I couldn't let him. I wouldn't.  
  
I'd arranged to meet the Duke in the Tower that night - just like I had been ready to do anything to be a real actress not so long ago, I was ready to do anything to keep our ending - even sleep with that awful man. Christian told me not to sleep with him, but I said I HAD to keep our ending and reminded him - come what may.  
  
I went to the Tower and everything was going according to plan, the Duke gave me a beautiful diamond necklace and then we were on the balcony, I was about to get it over and done with, when I spotted your daddy walking in the snow beneath the Tower, pleading with his eyes, just as he had on the day we'd met. I remembered our song and realized I couldn't do it. I couldn't betray Christian. I couldn't betray the only man who had ever cared for me. I couldn't throw away the love I had always wanted. I couldn't pretend anymore. I couldn't and I wouldn't. Then the Duke spotted Christian and was enraged that I'd picked the sitar player instead of him. He was such a superficial person who thought you could buy anything with money. But I knew I couldn't. Christian had taught me that.  
  
The Duke tried to rape me, but Chocolat, the faithful Moulin Rouge bodyguard who took care of all us girls, came along, punched the Duke and took me to Christian's garret. I cried all the way there, and I was so happy to see Christian. I told him I couldn't do it, that I loved him too much. He comforted me and said we'd leave at once, together. When I asked about the show he said, not doubting his decision for a second, "I don't care about the show. We love each other and that's all that matters." He was willing to give up HIS show - his first piece that would get an audience, his first success, his whole career - because of me. And he would've given it all up if it hadn't been for - again, me.  
  
I went to the elephant to get my things, but Harry was there. I told him we'd leave and that no one would stop us. He told me that the Duke would kill Christian, but I told him that we didn't care, we would run away where the Duke couldn't find us. I hated him for trying to stop me. Couldn't he see that I would finally fly away, that I would be happy?!! I yelled and screamed at him that I didn't need him anymore and that we would leave, no matter what. Tears started streaming down my face, Harry had never seen me cry, I wouldn't let him, but now I didn't care. I had Christian's love and that was all that mattered. That's the only thing that still matters now, apart from you.  
  
I was about to leave when Harry said that I was dying. I was positive it was just another cheap trick, but Marie confirmed it. That's why I'd been feeling so dizzy and sick, and coughed all the time. Harry said I had to leave Christian so that the Duke wouldn't kill him. I knew Christian would fight for me, come what may. But Harry convinced me that I had to make Christian believe that I didn't love him. I had to hurt him in order to save him. I had no choice. I couldn't let Christian be in danger because of me, especially since I was dying. Harry said it all in one simple phrase - the show must go on. Damn the show and him, I thought! I couldn't believe this was happening to me. When I finally had all I wanted - my very own prince charming and the role of a lifetime - it all had to come crashing down on me.  
  
With the heaviest heart in the world, I dragged myself to Christian's garret, and told him I didn't love him. I said that the Duke had come and offered me everything I had ever wanted, a lifetime of security and that's what mattered to me. I said it so matter-of-fact-ly and with such coldness that surprised me, this showed my real talent. I was able to tell the man I loved with every fiber of my being that I was leaving him because he was poor, and not even flinch, on the outside that is. Inside I was dying. I didn't even care that I was going to die for real, my soul was dead. My heart was breaking in two and all hope that had filled my body the last couple of months was gone. So was Christian's, I could see it in his eyes. Our hope seemed to fly out of the window like two white doves. I couldn't stand it anymore, when I said what I had to, I left, without turning back. If I had I would have run, run into his arms and never let go.  
  
The next night was the premiere of OUR play - "Spectacular Spectacular". We were all there except for Christian. I was getting more frequent coughing fits, but I had to do this. I had to do the play for us, if it was the only time. I would do it, with OUR ending, the way WE were supposed to end.  
  
But Christian came behind the stage, in between scenes. I could see the pain in his eyes, but there was also a glint of something else there. It was hope. I knew Christian would never lose his hope in love. NEVER! He yelled at me that he'd come to pay his whore. I knew he didn't really mean it, it was the pain and pride talking in him, but that didn't stop the words from stabbing at my heart like a knife. I told him to leave, but he wouldn't. We yelled and screamed like that repeating the same things over and over. The stage curtain then opened and the two of us were on stage. He repeated that he was there to pay me and thanked me for curing him of his ridiculous obsession with love. He walked off the stage towards the exit. As I watched after him, tears streaming down my face, Harry told me it was for the best and continued his lines from the play - the show must go on. His and his damn show!! My life wasn't a damn show! And my life would NOT go on without Christian! Because Christian WAS my life. Without Christian I had NOTHING!!!  
  
As I stared at his back in despair I heard Toulouse yell, "The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return!" That was the greatest thing Christian had taught me - that love was worth everything, even dying! I unsteadily started singing OUR secret song. I wanted him to know that even if he walked out that theater door I would love him, come what may, until my dying day. But he was Christian, he wouldn't leave me, he loved me too much. He turned around to look at me, he saw the tears in my eyes, as he joined me in our song, I knew that was it! That was what love overcoming all obstacles meant. Our love had overcome the biggest obstacle there was - our minds. We both did what we thought was best in our minds, not in our hearts. If we had only followed our hearts. If I had followed my heart, the last day wouldn't have happened. We'd be away from everyone, cherishing our every day. When I would be gone he'd have you, and me in his heart and I know that he would be able to live with that. But it was not meant to be.  
  
Christian joined me on the stage and we sang our song until the curtain closed. In my heart and soul I was stronger than ever, but in my body I felt weak from the strenuous performance, I was dizzy and I couldn't stand anymore. Christian held me in his arms, telling me to hold on, that everything would be all right. Then I told him I was dying. But he wouldn't believe me. I told him he had to go on, that he had to write our story. I made him promise he'd write our story so that I would always be with him. And I will always be with him, in his heart. Even in death I will belong to him. I could see the pain and despair in his eyes. His eyes. They were the last I saw of your daddy. I have every part of his body carved in my mind, but nothing is so deeply engraved in my memory as his eyes. Those eyes, that even after all we had gone through, still had the innocence of a child and the beauty of his soul burning deep inside of him. But brightest of all burned his ever-strong and undying faith in love and in me.  
  
  
  
[dried tears smearing the handwriting, bigger bloodstains than on the previous letter]  
  
  
  
Your mommy who will ALWAYZ love you, I don't want you to EVER forget that, OK?!  
  
  
  
[bloody fingerprints on the parts where Satine folded the letter and put it into an envelope] 


	3. Letters To My Unborn Child: Your Future

Disclaimer: All the Moulin Rouge characters belong to Baz Luhrmann and Craig Pierce.  
  
A/N: I kept reading other people's A/N saying how their stories just evolved and I'd be like, "How??" Well it has finally happened to me. This chapter was supposed to be solely about the baby's future, but as you will read on it evolved, quite unnecessarily, but then I thought why cut it out if it wasn't that bad, so I left everything.  
  
I want to thank you guys for reviewing, even one review makes me bloody happy! I am definitely gonna have the kid find Christian, and I was already thinking of writing sth from the kid's point of view, so now I will thx to Xena and Swimmin.  
  
TheLark - thx for continuing to read and Christian WILL come up, he'll just have to wait a bit. I mean the kid has to be born still - hopefully this chapter will give you more insight as to what will happen in the future.  
  
Hope you like the kid's name and Thx again for reviewing everyone :o)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
EYES LIKE YOURS  
  
  
  
~ by Alicia Jo Twain ~  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
PART 1 - LETTERS TO MY UNBORN CHILD  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 2: YOUR FUTURE  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
August 21st, 1900  
  
  
  
Dear Christina...  
  
My belly's already grown big enough and I'll be coming to term soon, which means that you'll be seeing the light of day in a little while. You've been kicking more than ever these past few days, which means that you are already strong enough and you don't know what joy it brings me. To any mother actually, but to me especially, since I am so weak. Yesterday I dreamt that I had given birth to a beautiful healthy baby girl, but I had died in childbirth. I am positive that was a message from God to get my affairs in order. I know I won't be around to see you grow and raise you, but I know you are going to be all right. It was meant to be like this - my lifestyle had to take it's toll somewhere, I'm just glad it's me and not you. I don't want you to feel guilty for my death. I would give my life for you any day, so you just take care of yourself and know that I'll be watching from above. I've picked out a name for you - Christina - after your daddy of course.  
  
This is probably the last letter I'll be writing you. My consumption is getting worse day by day. [bloodstains on the stationary] I am coughing more blood than before. I am feeling quite weak, I can hardly move. The doctor has instructed me to stay in bed till I come to term or I might risk your heath. You're already too big, for me to miscarry, but a high percentage of women in Paris give birth to dead babies, because they don't take care of themselves and I have no intention of doing that. I only get up to go to the bathroom, which is quite often, mind you. All together I've been stuck in the elephant for almost 8 months now. Apart from eating and sleeping, and writing these letters, I spend all of my time reading.  
  
Yes, reading! Saying it out loud still sounds strange as I never used to read before. I wasn't literate when I came to the Moulin Rouge but Harry told me that I'd at least have to learn to read and write if I wanted to become a real actress. It's not like he really cared about me becoming an actress, but as I'd repeated it to him so many times, I guess he didn't see any harm in it. He got one of the other courtesans to teach me. Most courtesans are illiterate coming from the streets, but the one that taught me was different. Her name was Emma. She used to be a girl from the upper social class - rich, educated, manipulated and taught to smile all the time. Her father wanted to marry her off to a rich old man, but she had fallen in love with her horse-riding instructor and was determined to marry for love. Emma's father forbid her to see him and fired him, but they eloped and never looked back. The money they had soon ran out and they both tried to find jobs, but there weren't any. They found shelter in the poorer part of town. For a year they survived on the streets as best they could, but they were all right, she said. They kept going because they were together, that was all they had ever wanted. Emma told me that was the best year of her life. But one day, searching for food, as usual, they found some money in a trash can - it wasn't much, but enough to provide food for a couple of days. The other street beggars saw him with the money and threw themselves on him. They all grabbed for it, hitting each other, fighting, pushing, etc... Emma tried to get to her husband, but there were just too many of them. They'd managed to get all the money and ran away. Her husband was left lying on the street, with blood trickling around his head and face.  
  
He was dead and Emma was lost. She had lost the love of her life and she had no reason to live. She didn't want to stay on the street anymore, without him it was all unbearable. She went back to her family, not asking them to take her back, for she knew her father had disowned her, but to ask her mother to help her find a job somewhere. Her mother didn't even talk to her but turned away from her. All her old friends pretended not to know her. She was all alone.  
  
Emma had decided to take her life and headed towards the river Seine. But as fate would have it, before she reached her destination, Harry found her. Just like he'd found me. He took her off the streets and the rest is history. She was very popular in her time, but when I met her she was already hitting 35 and the men wanted younger flesh. Harry didn't know quite what to do with her - most of his courtesans died by the age of 30. Emma didn't because she had lived the first 15 years of her life healthily, so the toll of a courtesan's life was a little delayed in her case. And so she became my teacher. Each day after dance rehearsals Emma would come to the elephant and teach me. At first it all went very slow, but I kept thinking of how I would read real scripts to act out and my dream made me strive harder. Emma was very pleased with me and told me that she had always wanted to be a teacher, but her father kept telling her that rich ladies don't work. So it was her dream coming true, although in somewhat different circumstances. Little by little we got to know each other, she was the only touch of humanity I felt in the Moulin Rouge. So one day she told me her story. I remember asking her if she regretted anything she'd done, and without even flinching she shook her head. She said it had all been worth it - even if it was only one year of marriage. I was very surprised by her answer but she told me that love is worth everything. By then I had already become very cynical towards anything to do with love, but she told me that I would remember her words when I fell in love. I just shook my head in denial. She only smiled.  
  
I'd finally started reading at a normal pace, almost like Emma's and I could write the basics. I was no poet, but it was good enough. For a courtesan, anyway. Soon after that Emma developed pneumonia, from a drafty room. Harry kept forgetting to fix her window (or so he said), and she died soon afterwards. I was devastated. I hadn't even realized I'd gotten so attached to her. I vowed I would never care for another human being like I did with Emma, because in these circumstances everyone was bound to die sooner or later, probably sooner than later. First my mom left me, and then Emma and I just couldn't stand it anymore. I locked my heart and threw away the key.  
  
I put all her books in a trunk and never opened it until a year ago when I met your daddy. It was too hard, every book reminded me of her, and I'd come to think of her as how my mother would be if she hadn't died. But when Christian came into my life I remembered what she'd told me, that love was worth everything. For the first time I opened the trunk and all the memories came back. When I'd told Christian about Emma he said that she was a very smart woman. He told me that it was a shame I'd given up on reading. That after love, books were the most wonderful thing in the world. He'd told me that he'd learned all he knew from books. Then I remembered that Emma had said something like that, but I'd just shrugged it off. He'd told me I had to start reading books. We kept planning to but we would either be working on the play or we would get carried away - there wasn't much time in between.  
  
So before I die I want to do something for him, so he knows I never dismissed anything he'd said. That's why I'm reading all the books I never got to read before. Most of Emma's books Christian had highly recommended. He was astonished with her book collection. I remember that Emma would spend ALL her money on books. The Moulin Rouge provided enough food, clothes and shelter, and a share of the money one earned was one's to spend. I spent it on catering the elephant, chocolate and little trinkets, while she always said that the only thing she needed were books. That's how she lived. She spent her every free moment reading, even when she was still working as a courtesan. Most of the books were in bad condition as she'd bought them at second-hand shops, but there was such a variety of them. Only a well-bred lady could've picked out the real classics. Christian said so.  
  
Emma's books opened up this whole other world for me that I never knew existed. So far I've read about 50 books - I just devour them - it's not like I have anything better to do. Austen, Alcott and the Bronte sisters are just amazing. My favorite books are by them. Before I saw their first names I would never have guessed that women write books. All I've ever known of women to be are courtesans, governesses or wives - depending on how much money they had. I wasn't even aware that women were allowed to write! That just goes to show the world I live in.  
  
I'm sorry, I got a little carried away, it's just that now I realize how much tougher Emma's life was because she knew what was out there and she had so much potential. She could've been the best teacher in the world! Instead she had to waste her life off being a courtesan because of her proud parents.  
  
Anyway, you're probably wondering what happened after "Spectacular Spectacular". So after fainting in Christian's arms the next thing I remember is waking up in the elephant on my bed coughing. Marie was standing over me, changing the wet cloth on my forehead. I asked her how long I'd been sleeping and where Christian was. I mentioned that I felt very weak, that my head hurt and that I was cold. Marie just told me to rest. My eyelids were just too heavy and I must've fallen asleep again.  
  
The next time I awoke it was pouring rain and Marie was still there, next to me, with a bowl of cold water on my nightstand. I was stronger than the last time I'd awoken and I was famished so I sat up and asked for some food. As I ate she filled me in on what had happened while I'd slept, after I demanded to know where Christian was. Marie said it had been 5 days since "Spectacular Spectacular" and that I'd been coming in out of consciousness since then. She said that everyone thought I was dead after fainting after the show and that Christian had cried and cried, not wanting to leave me. But the Duke had come back with another gun and threatened to kill him. Christian wouldn't leave but Harry convinced him to, that I wouldn't have wanted him to die by the Duke's hand. He was still inconsolable, but thinking of me, he was helped out of the Moulin Rouge. They hadn't heard from him since. When I heard all that I was furious!!! How could they make Christian leave like that?!! I wasn't dead, not yet, anyway. And that hateful Duke!! Arghhhh!!! Marie said that he had tried to take me to the Tower, but Harry said that I was a creature of the underworld, that I belonged to the Moulin Rouge. The Duke said he owned the nightclub, which meant he owned me. But Chocolat wrestled with him and the gun went off, killing the Duke. Probably the only good thing that happened after the premiere.  
  
I told Marie that I would find Christian somehow. I removed the covers and tried to stand up but I felt faint and had to lie back down. Marie said I needed rest and that the doctor was just about to arrive. He did and asked me how I was feeling. I told him I was OK, but that I felt a bit faint and nauseated and that I was still hungry even tho I'd just eaten. He looked at me strangely and said that those weren't consumption symptoms. Then he checked me over, feeling my pulse, listening to my heart and all that doctor stuff. He said, "I don't know if this is right, but is it possible that you are pregnant?" I was shocked!! I just stared at him, not believing what he'd just said. He repeated the question and I stammered, "It is possible, but unlikely..." He asked why and I told him that in all my years as a courtesan I'd never gotten pregnant, that I was always careful. When he asked if I'd been careful lately I thought back to all the nights at Christian's and at that time, not getting pregnant was the last thing on my mind. As I didn't answer he asked me about my period. I told him that it had been late for a while, but that I'd attributed it to work stress and a VERY busy schedule. He told me that as far as he could tell - I was pregnant and nothing I could do would change that, except- I quickly put my hand over his mouth so he wouldn't even say it! I asked him what the chances of me having you were, with my consumption and everything. He said it was very risky and that I had to spend the rest of the pregnancy in bed and pray that the consumption wouldn't take me before I had you. That put a big smile on my face. So it was possible that I would finally have a child of my own, and Christian's child no less!! When the doctor left I got quite hysterical, hugging Marie and you in my still very flat stomach. Chocolat came to check up on me and I hugged him, thanking him for all he had done for me. He smiled at me and whispered in my ear, "You know you'll always be my favorite."  
  
I was Harry and Chocolat's favorite ever since I'd come to the Moulin Rouge but for completely different reasons. Harry liked me best because I brought in the most money, but Chocolat really loved me - he'd come to the Moulin Rouge only a year before me and we practically grew up together. He was the brother I never had. He always looked out for me, much more than his job demanded.  
  
When I told him I was pregnant he was possibly even happier than me! He said he'd be the best uncle in the world. I don't doubt that for a second. Then Harry came and asked when I'd be up and about. It was probably his way of hiding the pain of losing me bit by bit. He knew I'd be gone soon. When I told him I was pregnant he gave me a weak smile asking if the doctor had said whether I'd carry you to term. I got upset and yelled at him how he could even say a thing like that and told him that I wouldn't lift a finger from now on. That the doctor had said that I had to rest and not move at all, that I'd have you no matter what, that he and the Moulin Rouge could go to hell, that I'd paid my debt. Marie told me to calm down, that it wasn't good for me, so I lay back, breathing heavily. Harry came next to the bed, kneeled on the floor and said he was sorry, that he's always wanted only the best for me, and that you would be born and be as beautiful as your mother. I was tired and said it was OK, but that I really wanted to have you and that he was going to have to support me. He agreed and said I could count on him unconditionally. I wouldn't really have said it that way, but that was Harry.  
  
Chocolat told me he'd already looked for Christian but it was too late. Some people said they saw him buy a ticket for America a day after he thought I'd died. I couldn't reach him anymore.  
  
So now as I read all these books I think of Emma and remember her words. Now, just as Emma had said, I can say that it was all worth it. Losing my mother so early on, life on the streets, life as a courtesan, even this consumption - all worth it - to have met your daddy and to have you now. I wouldn't take anything back. This was the way it was meant to be. Even tho I'm dying I have faith that God will give me strength to live till the day you are born. Faith and hope are the only things keeping me alive - faith in Christian's love and hope for your own life, because I know you will do what I never could - fly away. Fly away and leave the past to yesterday. You have Christian's blood running through your veins and I know you'll have his strength and belief that the greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return. I wasn't strong enough to leave on my own, but you will. You have to find your daddy when you grow up. He has to know about you!  
  
You are so different from me, you will make it, I'm sure of it!! All I'd ever known were the streets and the Moulin Rouge. Not much of a choice, but then your daddy came and he breathed fresh air into my lungs. Air full of strength and belief in the good things in life - truth, beauty, freedom and above all - love. Air so unlike the one in the underworld which I had been breathing for much too long, air polluted with impure thoughts, men's lustful desires and the women's imprisonment in a man's world. When you've been breathing polluted air for as many years as I have, you forget the smell and taste of fresh air and it doesn't matter what you do anymore, what's right and what's wrong. There's just what you have to do to survive, the words "right" and "wrong" don't exist in the underworld. That's what Harry taught me the very first day I stepped foot into the Moulin Rouge, the first day of the end, and at the same time the beginning, of my life.  
  
When I met your father there was only Satine in body. Satine in soul was dead. The Moulin Rouge had killed it, or so I'd thought. But Christian was the hand, and his simple and honest words were the key that reached deep into me and unlocked my heart and soul. I was alive again! The real me! The girl who had once believed in fairytales, waiting to be rescued from her miserable existence by her very own prince charming. But then Harry came along. He wasn't exactly prince charming, but then and there, he was the next best thing.  
  
Oh- you just kicked!  
  
Anyway, this is my story, just as it happened. I don't want anyone deceiving you about your mom. I'm not saint, but I don't want you to be ashamed of me. Don't believe that you're a bastard child when someone calls you that, as they're bound to. Just remember that I want to have you more than anything in this world, and I know Christian would say the same. I'm sorry that I can't leave you in better surroundings than the Moulin Rouge, but you have Chocolat, who I know will take care of you, like he took care of me, and you have Marie, who's been the grandma I never had - you won't believe how she can fuss over a person she loves. She's the best. They'll take care of you, as best as they can, until you are old enough to read these letters and go look for your father, because I know he'll welcome you with more than open arms.  
  
Here's where my story ends and yours begins. Remember that I'll be watching over you ALL the time and know that I'll always be proud of you, but most of all - remember that I will love you until the end of time. Just like I will love your daddy.  
  
  
  
Your mommy Satine 


	4. For Christian: Since You've Been Gone

Disclaimer: All the Moulin Rouge characters belong to *alas!* Baz Luhrmann and Craig Pierce.  
  
A/N: Thx everyone who's reviewed, hope you like this one - it's kinda sad, but... Whatever, read and you'll see.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
EYES LIKE YOURS  
  
  
  
~ by Alicia Jo Twain ~  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
PART 2 - FOR CHRISTIAN: SINCE YOU'VE BEEN GONE  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
August 23rd, 1900  
  
  
  
My dearest Christian...  
  
I miss you sooooooooooooooo much.  
  
I've been counting the days since that night, but they seem like years to me. Every day it gets harder and harder living without you by my side. Without you here to kiss me, to hug me, to make love to me... To feel myself becoming one with you, the way I'd never felt before. Every time we made love was so special, exploring each other's bodies like it was the first time, everything so new and exciting. It was all so wonderful - because it IS true - love is like oxygen, you can't live without it, and we did exactly that - we made love - we never had sex, because when we were together the most important thing was our love for each other. With each encounter my love grew, and with each day, as I miss you more and more, my love still grows. So much that I think I'll explode. I ache from loving you, but it's such sweet sorrow that I wish it would never go away. What makes it even sweeter is that I know it won't go away as long as I have my soul, and souls go on forever, they never die. Eventually there will be no more sorrow, just sweet sweet love. Because we will be reunited in Heaven above, I will be waiting for you, always.  
  
I have to tell you something... I'm pregnant!!! Yes! For real!!! Remember all the times we dreamt of being married and having our own children?!! I'd said I wanted a boy just like you - with your hair and faith in love, and you said you wanted a little girl with my curly hair and blue eyes. What was it you said...? Ah! The bluest eyes you'd ever seen, the color of the sky - where you wanted to take me. I never told you this, but you already took me up there, your love took me everywhere I ever wanted to go. There's nothing else I want except you. And I've had you, so purely and perfectly, as no woman ever had a man.  
  
Now that dream is a reality! I'm pregnant with a baby girl and I know she's going to be so perfect, just like her daddy. She is my gift to you. All I wanted was to give you my love, and I've done as I promised, "I will love you until my dying day." Now, I feel like I've cheated you of something. You came into my life like a storm, so unexpected and life- changing, but instead of bringing the rain and clouds, you brought the sun into my life. You gave up everything you knew to come to Paris, to the Moulin Rouge knowing you would find love. Knowing you would find me. You did it all because you had faith in love. I feel so lucky that you chose me to share that wonderful feeling with. I want to thank you for believing in love, for believing in me, for believing that I too could love, something I thought I'd forgotten how to do. But love is like riding a bicycle, I guess, you never forget, even if you try.  
  
I feel like I'm betraying you by dying on you like this, leaving you, after all you've done for me. I never got to pay you back for your strength. You never paid me the way other men had, but what you gave me, expecting nothing in return, is worth so much more - more than all the diamonds and dresses in the world.  
  
Your arms around me made time stop, one quick look from you made everything go away! There was nothing else in the world, just you and me, lost in each other's gaze. Your touch made my whole body tingle and the way you made love to me convinced me that everything would be all right and I knew you would love me till the end of time, just as I love you. You gave me all that and so much more that wouldn't fit into a whole universe!  
  
All that resulted in our child - we have a daughter now - the incarnation of our love for one another. It's still so hard to believe that every once in a while I pinch myself to make sure that it's not a dream. This miracle God's given me - given us - is such a blessing that I know He'll make sure I deliver a healthy baby, just as I know she WILL find you, sooner or later.  
  
I am feeling weaker as the days go by, I'll probably die at childbirth, I dreamt I would, but I don't care, because it's all going to be worth it - we will have created that little wonderful human being - together. It was meant to be this way and I have no regrets at all. As long as Christina's all right.  
  
I've named her Christina after you, because you gave her to me, and now I give her back to you. She is my debt to you for showing me the world. The world that no one had ever showed me. No one else could, even if they wanted to - because you are the most unique being I know and you have the gift - only you - the gift of bringing worlds together with love... [the last word a little scribbled]  
  
Oh! Christina just kicked. She's kicking more and more every day, but I don't mind. It's very comforting to be reminded that she's real and that she's yours. She'll probably play soccer better than any boy, she's getting enough practice :o)  
  
I don't want you to think I've been spending my last days idly, crying over you. I have cried - many a tears - but I want you to be proud of me. I never did any honest work in my entire life, but I am changing that - I don't have much time left, but I'm trying to make it count. One thing I'll do to make this world a better place is bring Christina into it. At least I'll have done that.  
  
I've written three letters to our daughter, telling her all about me, and us, our story, and told her to find you so by the time you'll be reading this I'll be long gone, but that'll mean that Christina will have found you and that makes me happier than you can imagine.  
  
I've also been knitting her a woolen scarf; you know how the days in Paris can get cold in winter.  
  
I don't know if you remember but you once told me that reading good books makes us better people. I can't say there are too many things in my life I'm proud of, but as I said, I'm trying to make up for that. Even if it's just by reading. But I want to make you happy. I know how much literature means to you. Now, I can honestly say it means the world to me. It reminds me of you and Emma.  
  
I went through the first Greek writers - Homer, Aeschylus, Sophocles, Euripides, over the Roman poets, 12th and 13th century national epic tales, then the Italians - Dante, Boccacchio, and Petrarca. I love his poems - they are so sad, yet so sweet and beautiful. I can relate to them because I love you so much and yet we can't be together.  
  
Shakespeare - he's almost as good a writer as you. Almost, but just not there yet :o) My favorite Shakespeare play is "Romeo and Juliet", just like yours. It is the most wonderful play in the whole world! After "Spectacular Spectacular" of course. I've also read all his other plays; I know he's your favorite author. I quite liked "The Taming of the Shrew" and "As You Like It", but I'm sorry to say that all those Henry's aren't as good. For me anyway, but what do I know.  
  
My favorites are the women authors - Alcott, Austen and the Bronte's - I'm sure you'd approve, Emma did. You never told me that women could write as well. I never knew that! But I'm glad because I know Christina will have your talent and she will be the next Louisa May Alcott! Even better!!!  
  
I've read most of the Dumas novels, and can you believe I cried all the way through "The Man in the Iron Mask"?!! Because it's so much like my previous life - I was Philippe, locked away forever, without any hope of escaping, wearing a mask, no one knowing who I really was. But then you came - you were my musketeer, taking me out of my darkness into the light.  
  
Dostoyevsky's Raskolnikoff had love at the end of his tunnel - that made him survive prison, I have you and Christina at the end of my tunnel - that's making my soul survive death. If I hadn't met you my soul would have died along with my body, like Zola's Nana had - it makes me so sad that so many courtesans around the world end up like her. I cried all the way through her story too - because I WAS Nana before I met you. But you turned my life into an Andersen fairytale - it may seem like a sad end, but it's the middle of it that counts, not necessarily the end. Romeo and Juliet died, that doesn't make the story any less beautiful.  
  
But you were right, books make us all better people. They help me forget that I'm dying and I relive our love through the love stories of the characters. I can so easily identify with all of them that I really feel that you and I met like that in an alternate universe, almost as real as reality. But it IS all real - in my imagination - you taught me that. Imagination is just a huge alternate world out there, where everything is possible and there are no chains keeping us from flying away.  
  
I am Lizzie to your Darcy, I am Jo to your Professor Bhaer, I am Jane to your Mr. Rochester, I am Estella to your Pip, but above all  
  
I am Satine to your Christian.  
  
  
  
Our daughter - from me to you, Christian  
  
With all the love in the world  
  
Forever and always  
  
Come What May  
  
  
  
  
  
Satine  
  
  
  
  
  
P.S. Reading all those wonderful books has inspired me to write a poem. It's my first and last poem so don't expect it to be too good, but it comes from the heart and you always told me that's what matters.  
  
It's written for and dedicated to - you, dummy!  
  
  
  
  
  
Tomorrow  
  
  
  
When tomorrow starts without me  
  
And I'm not there to see  
  
If the sun should rise and find your eyes  
  
All filled with tears for me  
  
I wish so much you wouldn't cry  
  
The way you did today  
  
While thinking of the many things  
  
We didn't get to say  
  
  
  
I know how much you love me  
  
As much as I love you  
  
And each time that you think of me  
  
I know you'll miss me too  
  
But when tomorrow starts without me  
  
Please try to understand  
  
That an angel came and called my name  
  
And took me by the hand  
  
And said my place was ready  
  
In heaven far above  
  
And that I'd have to leave behind  
  
All those I dearly love  
  
  
  
But when I walked through heaven's gates  
  
I felt so much at home  
  
When God looked down and smiled at me  
  
From His great golden throne  
  
He said, "This is eternity  
  
And all I've promised you"  
  
Today for life on earth is past  
  
But here it starts anew  
  
I promise no tomorrow  
  
For today will always last  
  
And since each day's the same way  
  
There's no longing for the past  
  
  
  
So when tomorrow starts without me  
  
Don't think we're far apart  
  
For every time you think of me  
  
I'm right here in your heart.  
  
  
  
  
  
So don't worry about me, Christian. I'll be fine, as long as you and Christina are. As much as I long to be with you, I don't want you in Heaven until you have taught our little girl all you have taught me. When the time comes, you'll know. And I will be waiting with arms wide open, craving to be in your warm embrace once again.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: So did you like it? Please review :o)  
  
I would like nothing more, but to be able to take credit for this wonderful poem you just read, but *alas!* I can't. Talk about life not being fair. I found it on Aaliyah's official website after she died, and at the bottom it said,  
  
"This poem was inspired by Aaliyah and written by a friend in return for the many things she gave him."  
  
It is the *MOST* beautiful poem I've ever heard/read and it fit in my fanfic. So if the person who wrote this by any chance reads it, or someone who knows him, please don't be mad, because I LOVE the poem and wouldn't do anything to disrespect Aaliyah's memory. I think that the author would want other people to read the poem because it has such a beautiful message. And I am going to have it read at my funeral. 


	5. Ray of Light: The End

Disclaimer: yada, yada, yada, fantastic Baz Luhrmann yada yada yada yada Christina.  
  
The part title belongs to the fantastic Madonna.  
  
  
  
A/N: Thx everyone who's reviewed, I've come to really appreciate my reviewers and reviews coz I went to the Voyager fanfic section and there are TONZ of fanfic but people are barely reviewing. Which is really sad, so I'm thrilled to have this community of extremely nice Moulin Rouge reviewers :o)  
  
I know the title of the story doesn't make all that much sense yet, but it will later on, I promise.  
  
Anyway, this is chapter 5. It's a bit different, but I hope you guys like it. It's called The End, but it's NOT the end. Please don't forget to review :o) Pretty please.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Eyes Like Yours  
  
  
  
~ by Alicia Jo Twain ~  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Part 3: Ray of Light  
  
  
  
Chapter 1: The End  
  
  
  
  
  
"Push, Satine! Push!!" Marie yelled.  
  
"I ca-a-a-an't!!" Satine yelled back.  
  
  
  
She was exhausted, my poor little chickpea. It has been like this for over five hours. Satine has been lying in bed for the past 2 weeks, she'd been feeling awfully weak. No appetite, she barely ate anything, and that was only for the baby's sake. She's coughed more and more blood. We called the doctor, but there was nothing he could do. He just said to keep her calm, not to upset her. Then this morning she said she was feeling even weaker and that she was having pains. I called for the doctor, not knowing what it was about. Marie, in the meanwhile, discovered Satine's water had broken and said she was in labor.  
  
Satine went paler than she naturally was when she heard that. I guess it was scared her to think that she had reached her destination. She often said she was only living for the baby and that she'd be gone soon after. That time had come. She said it hurt too much. She started breathing faster; Marie coached her how to push and... It's horrible. I can't bear seeing her like that. My pumpkin... It's even worse than seeing her cough blood - this is real pain!  
  
The doctor came but he doesn't do anything, really.  
  
I'm standing outside Satine's quarters and I can hear her screaming.  
  
It's tearing my heart.  
  
And there's nothing I can do.  
  
Nothing.  
  
N-O-T-H-I-N-G!  
  
I feel so helpless.  
  
So useless.  
  
  
  
I look around - the entrance to the elephant is splendid. Like a king's palace. The curtains are made of sheer silk, the wallpaper is red velvet, and the floor is covered in red carpet. Everything looks so new. Satine knew how to take care of her things.  
  
But what is all this to her now?  
  
What is all this to me?  
  
I don't care.  
  
I never have.  
  
I only thought I did.  
  
What do I want silk and velvet for when my little sparrow is in such pain - I can hear her muffled screams and the doctor encouraging her - what will I need all this for when she's gone.  
  
There, I said it, she WILL be gone.  
  
And soon.  
  
Too soon.  
  
She's still too young.  
  
This can't be happening.  
  
But it is.  
  
Face it Harry, courtesans die young, especially your courtesans.  
  
It was all my fault. How could I let this happen?  
  
"Harry!!" I heard Satine scream from inside the room.  
  
I shook my head.  
  
I can't go in there. Not with Satine like that.  
  
No. I can't.  
  
She can't see me like this.  
  
It's all my fault.  
  
Another voice brought me out of my thoughts.  
  
It was Marie yelling through the closed door, "Harry, Satine needs you here."  
  
What should I do?  
  
"Harry..." I heard the pleading in Satine's voice.  
  
I went in.  
  
I saw Satine in bed, where I'd left her, but her legs were wide apart and her face was wet with sweat. Her soft wavy curls fell on her face. She kept trying to remove them from her face but they kept coming back. Satine was still screaming and Marie was telling her to push. The doctor just stood there, not doing anything. I rushed over to Satine's side and brushed all that hair away from her face.  
  
In the middle of all the yelling and shouting, she managed to give me a smile.  
  
That lifted me up.  
  
I needed to be here.  
  
Satine needed me.  
  
And if I hadn't been there for her before, I would be now!  
  
She tried to say something, but she couldn't get a word out before another contraction came. That's what the doctor said it was. I wouldn't really know, this is the first time I was actually there for the delivery.  
  
I said, "Don't worry, Satine. Think of the baby. You'll tell me later."  
  
She seemed reassured and continued to follow Marie's instructions.  
  
I couldn't believe this took so long.  
  
And so much pain.  
  
No wonder men don't have to go through this.  
  
We'd faint before the real pain ever came.  
  
"Here comes a big one!" Satine yelled and gave this terrible holler, I thought the light bulb would break.  
  
"Can't you DO something?" I asked the doctor.  
  
"No. She's having a baby, this is how these things are done. Are you a first child?"  
  
"Ummmm... Yes," not quite understanding the reason of the question, "Why?"  
  
"This is probably how much pain your mom went through to have you. First- time mothers have it the hardest."  
  
I imagine my mom instead of Satine going through all of this for me and ewwwwww...  
  
No wonder she always cursed me.  
  
She'd often tell me that she almost died at childbirth.  
  
Then it hit me!  
  
Satine!!!  
  
I shut out my thoughts and tried to help Satine as best as I could.  
  
"Don't think about the pain, Satine."  
  
"How do you bloody expect me not to think about it?!!!" she yelled at me.  
  
"I mean..." I stammer, I have no idea what to say.  
  
"Think about how it will be to have your daughter in your arms."  
  
"Oh..."  
  
That seemed to reassure her.  
  
It worked so I kept repeating the same thing over and over while I kept thinking, "Poor Satine."  
  
Then Marie raised her voice, saying, "We're almost there, Satine, a couple of more pushes."  
  
"Oh Marie, I can't!! I ca-a-a-a-an't!!!" She gave another high-pitched scream.  
  
"How do women do this, Marie?!!! This is terrible. I... I c-a-a-a-a-a-n't."  
  
"I can see the head, c'mon, push!!"  
  
"Think about Christina, pumpkin. Think about Christina," I say.  
  
As soon as I said that, Satine pushed the hardest she could and in less than a minute Marie held Christina in her arms, "it's a girl!"  
  
As the baby's crying filled the room Satine gave a loud laugh.  
  
But it wasn't a grown-up laugh. It was like the laugh of child when given a lollipop. It was the same laugh I'd heard from her when she fell into that muddy puddle the day I'd met her. I hadn't heard it since and it warmed my heart to think that Satine was finally feeling like she used to.  
  
Before everything.  
  
Before the Moulin Rouge.  
  
Before me.  
  
"I told you it was a girl!" Satine said as she breathed a big sigh a of relief and let herself fall back on the pillows. A smile was plastered all over her face.  
  
"Marie... can I hold her?"  
  
Marie put the baby in a blanket and gave her to Satine.  
  
She held Christina with such delicacy, like she was afraid her daughter would break.  
  
Satine looked the baby over, making sure she wasn't missing anything, and as she counted she said out loud:  
  
"Ten fingers."  
  
"Ten toes."  
  
"Two eyes."  
  
"One mouth."  
  
The latter was quite unnecessary, but it gave Satine such pleasure that we all just stared in awe, keeping out mouths shut.  
  
Satine looked like she'd never looked before. She had only a simple smile on her face, but her face was lit up like a Christmas tree.  
  
Christina cried and cried but Satine patiently tried to calm her.  
  
"You might want me to quiet her," the doctor said insensitively.  
  
All of a sudden Satine's expression changed to a ferocious one as she held Christina like a wild animal protecting her offspring.  
  
"Why?? Aren't all babies supposed to cry?! They're spreading their lungs, or whatever!!!"  
  
She stared at the doctor with such intense defensiveness.  
  
He looked astounded.  
  
Personally I had no idea what Satine was talking about. Lungs??!  
  
"I've been reading, doctor!"  
  
Then she let her guard down and said, "I've longed to have Christina in my arms for 8 whole months, this is music to my ears," and she smiled.  
  
She looked so happy.  
  
I'd never seen her like that. Even with Christian she wasn't THAT happy.  
  
This was more than happy.  
  
This was bliss.  
  
Pure bliss.  
  
  
  
The doctor then excused himself and left.  
  
"Harry," Satine said and immediately coughed.  
  
"Are you OK?" I asked sitting on the side of the bed.  
  
"I'm fine..." she coughed again.  
  
"I want to ask you something."  
  
"Anything you want, chickpea."  
  
She smiled at my old nickname for her.  
  
Of all that was her favorite one.  
  
"You know..." she trailed off.  
  
I knew what she was going to say, but I couldn't bring myself to say it myself. I just waited for her to continue. I am such a coward!!  
  
"You know that I am going to die very soon."  
  
I kept quiet. I couldn't say anything. I just nodded.  
  
"I want you to promise me that you'll take care of Christina for me."  
  
"You know I will, Satine."  
  
She coughed again and I helped her hold Christina as she put her hand to her mouth. When she lowered it I noticed blood on it, but she just made a fist and ignored it. That was Satine. She wouldn't let others suffer if she could help it. But I saw it, and so did Marie.  
  
"I mean REALLY take care of her, Harry."  
  
Again, I knew what she meant but I kept quiet.  
  
"I want you to raise her as your own, which means educating her. Find someone like Emma. And no courtesan business for her. When she turns 13, I want you to give her the letters I've written her... Marie..."  
  
Marie opened the drawer of her nightstand and took out a bundle of papers. She handed them to Satine, who handed them to me.  
  
"You are to give her these and she will be old enough to decide for herself what tol do."  
  
"OK," I said meekly.  
  
"No courtesan business!!!"  
  
"No courtesan business."  
  
"Promise me, no courtesan business. Not even one. Not even the HINT of one!"  
  
"OK, I promise," I said.  
  
I can't say the thought hadn't crossed my mind, but this was Satine.  
  
My Sparkling Diamond.  
  
I would do what she wanted, even if it meant the end of the Moulin Rouge.  
  
Hopefully not, though.  
  
Satine went into a coughing fit and to reassure her I repeated, "I promise, Satine, I promise."  
  
She stopped coughing and looked at Christina with so much love in a single look that my eyes started to water.  
  
"Marie... you'll help Harry, won't you?!" she looked at Marie.  
  
"Oh, Satine... I'll love and look after her as my own granddaughter."  
  
"Help her..." she started coughing again.  
  
"Help her find..."  
  
She went into a long coughing fit and Marie took Christina away.  
  
Satine couldn't stop coughing, and kept trying to say something.  
  
"Help her..."  
  
"Yes, of course I'll help her, Satine."  
  
"Help... her... find..."  
  
Blood stained the white linen sheets as I stared in horror.  
  
I couldn't do anything.  
  
"...find..."  
  
"Find who, Satine?"  
  
"find... Chr-christian."  
  
"I promise, I will, I promise, Satine."  
  
She gave me one last weak smile and just lay there.  
  
Not coughing.  
  
Not blinking.  
  
Not breathing.  
  
Not anything.  
  
  
  
I promise, I promise I will take care of Christina.  
  
  
  
  
  
When I'd first met Satine she was only a rosebud.  
  
As she stepped into the Moulin Rouge she started blooming.  
  
Then Christian came along and she bloomed like no other rose ever had.  
  
Then he left and bit by bit the rose withered away.  
  
Petal by petal slowly, but surely, fell to the ground.  
  
There was no going back.  
  
  
  
At last the final petal had fallen.  
  
  
  
The rose was dead. 


	6. Ray of Light: The Beginning

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Disclaimer: You know the drill.  
  
A/N: Thank you my lovely reviewers - especially to the loyal ones. You know who you are :o)  
  
Well this is chapter 2 to part 3, this is also the end of part 3 and next chapter will be a whole other part of this *saga* (he he), but it'll finally be from Christina's POV, which I know a lot of you are looking forward to. So stay tuned.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
EYES LIKE YOURS  
  
  
  
~ by Alicia Jo Twain ~  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Part 3: Ray of Light  
  
  
  
Chapter 2: The End  
  
  
  
  
  
Satine is gone.  
  
Satine is gone.  
  
Satine is gone.  
  
Those words pounded in my head, over and over and over again, like a regular beat. I tried to block them out, but it was no use. I had this horrible empty feeling in my stomach that I couldn't get rid of.  
  
Satine was gone.  
  
What would I do without her?  
  
She was the daughter I'd never had.  
  
She was my sparkling diamond.  
  
She was my everything.  
  
And yet she was there in front of me, lying on the bed - the bed where she'd slept with all the clients I'd sent her. I feel so ashamed for having put her through it. How could I have done that to Satine?  
  
How could I have been the reason for her death?  
  
Because the Underworld killed Satine.  
  
My Satine.  
  
And it was my fault.  
  
  
  
She looked so peaceful now. Like I'd never seen her.  
  
I'd never much believed in God, or I did when it suited me. But Satine looked like she was in a better place now.  
  
She had to be.  
  
After all the things she'd gone through.  
  
After all I'd put her through.  
  
The least she deserved was Heaven.  
  
  
  
I tried to convince myself to be happy for her.  
  
She was out of the misery of this world.  
  
But all I could think about was how I'd go on without her.  
  
I couldn't even imagine it.  
  
The Moulin Rouge was gone.  
  
With the shares belonging to the Duke's relatives.  
  
And with Satine gone it wasn't much good anyway.  
  
I had no reason to live anymore.  
  
I broke down and fell beside Satine holding her hand, tears running down my cheeks.  
  
I cried rivers, as if my tears could bring her back.  
  
But they couldn't.  
  
Nothing could bring her back.  
  
Nothing.  
  
  
  
I don't know how much time passed but the next thing I remember is Christina crying and then Marie rocking her to and fro.  
  
I tried to think about Christina, but the idea of Satine dead blocked out anything else from my mind.  
  
I stood up and left the room.  
  
I couldn't stand to look at Satine like that.  
  
Knowing that I'd lost her.  
  
Not to the Duke.  
  
Not to Christian.  
  
But to death.  
  
  
  
This time...  
  
Forever.  
  
  
  
I ran outside. It was raining heavily, but I didn't care.  
  
I ran all over Montmartre but everything reminded me of her.  
  
Running didn't help matters, it only made me tired physically.  
  
My soul had been tired of my whole life for a very long time, but with Satine around it didn't seem that bad.  
  
Every time I saw her, my soul lit up. Everything was forgotten. She was my little chickpea.  
  
  
  
I played Satine's dying moments in my head over and over. I couldn't get the picture of her in such pain out of my head.  
  
As the little slide-show rolled on in my head I started to calm down and think about what she said.  
  
Her last words.  
  
"Help her find Christian."  
  
Christina!!!  
  
I'd totally forgotten about her.  
  
I'd promised to take care of her.  
  
I started running back to the Moulin Rouge.  
  
I had to get back.  
  
Back to Christina.  
  
I couldn't let her down.  
  
Not like I'd let down Satine.  
  
I promised myself, then and there, that I would never let Christina down.  
  
Never!  
  
  
  
I ran up the stairs of the elephant and burst through the door. Marie was still holding Christina, while trying to clean up the room. Satine was still lying on the bed, but everything was clean. Not a trace of blood in sight.  
  
"I'm glad you came back," Marie said.  
  
I smiled and walked towards her.  
  
"Could I hold Christina for a while?"  
  
Marie put her in my arms, saying, "Isn't she beautiful?"  
  
I looked at this newborn baby girl with such awe.  
  
I'd never seen anything like her.  
  
She was so perfect.  
  
No, more than that.  
  
She was awesome.  
  
I'd make everything up to Satine by doing it for her daughter.  
  
Christina was my second chance.  
  
She was my new beginning.  
  
She'd never miss a thing.  
  
I'd make sure of that.  
  
Just as I'd promised.  
  
I had to.  
  
For my chickpea.  
  
  
  
For Satine.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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A/N: You think I don't care what you think? I don't think so. So please tell me what you think and I'll think you're great :o) 


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